


Lose the battle, win the war

by fish_wifey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 2nd year Bokuto, 2nd year Semi, Kissing, M/M, Nationals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 23:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14963963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fish_wifey/pseuds/fish_wifey
Summary: During a match at nationals, emotions run higher and higher. It's only natural when an eagle meets an owl.





	Lose the battle, win the war

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BGee93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BGee93/gifts).



> A friend of mine put a general request on tumblr in need of fluffy fic. I ended up writing a little over 5000 words for multiple ships in various short lengths (short for me at least).
> 
> This is one were I am fine with uploading it as this simple one shot (｡• ▽ •｡) With some, I'd like to work them out a bit more~
> 
> Anyway, I think Bokuto and Semi together... they'd give off the vibe of raw energy with a hint of ero (￣▽￣*)ゞ 
> 
> Also, all these one shots will be uploaded without being beta-read. I cannot invest the time and energy into editing rare pair fics anymore My Dudes. If you see horrible mistakes and want to correct me, you're welcome to in the comments! But don't tell me I must find a beta reader to look over everything I post.

The cheers of both teams sound loud in the hall. It’s a mess of noise. Nothing rises above it. The calls from the teams themselves are piercing. Instructions, ‘don’t mind’s, encouragement. It all mingles to a fire in Koutarou’s stomach. Overtaken, he tosses the ball up, his run up joined by the louder cheers of the Fukuroudani Academy cheering squad. The ball feels snug against his palm, in the one second that his palm connects to its exterior, to send it over the net. 

It feels so good, so right. Surely no one can even touch that ball as Koutarou power smashes it. 

Yet on the other side of the net, none other but the pinch hitter awaits. Alas, that was Semi Eita’s role a year ago, when both he and Koutarou were first years.

in their second run at Nationals, Semi has risen the ranks as Shiratorizawa’s setter. Switched in for good in the second set, he’s taken over from the eagle’s first choice, now benched. Not letting anyone else get the ball, Semi rushes forward, underarms outstretched. 

The ball hits straight on, rising in a nice arc. An A-pass to Oohira, who sets the ball for their canon. 

Gritting his teeth, Koutarou gets into position. A set up from anybody that hasn’t the setter title is by standards an easier ball to receive. 

But their canon is Ushijima Wakatoshi, and Koutarou watches the ball bounce off his senpai’s arms, towards the back line and behind it, unreachable by anyone on their team. Gritting his teeth as his three no-touch service aces were harshly interrupted, Koutarou’s eyes glance at the other team’s setter. He’s equally praised for the receive and connect, as he’s rebuked for not standing in position to set the ball himself and let someone else handle the first touch.

And in that moment, when all loudness seems too impossible to overcome, Koutarou hears the words.

“I just wanted to be the one to stop Bokuto! Nothing more to it,” Semi laughs loud, close to the net. His hair is ruffled by teammates. Koutarou can’t help but feel he wants to pull that hair. 

_And kiss Semi senseless._

~

 

He’s found on a bench far away from the court he just played. Lost at. Left alone by teammates who knew better than to approach him, Koutarou’s head hangs low off slump shoulders. Someone, either Komi or Konoha, put a towel over his head. It frames the sides, hiding tears. 

“You’re too freaking incredible,” a voice says from the corner. Koutarou doesn’t want to look up. He has shook hands with Ushjima, with Ushijima’s senpai. He didn’t want to hear Ushijima’s setter, who brought him perfect set ups for two sets. One Fukuroudani won off Shiratorizawa when Semi hadn’t been on the team. But after the setter switch, the eagles won two in a row off the owls, eliminating Koutarou’s team from Nationals on their home turf. 

Right now was not the time to see anyone else in that white-purple jersey. Koutarou didn’t want to hear another kind word from the winning team. For all his bluster and strength, he was too downcast to raise his head and tell Semi kindly to go away. 

And that brings Semi to sit next to Koutarou, thigh to thigh, knee to knee. 

The touch shocks Koutarou into a stiff silence. He blinks, unsure of what to do or even say. Semi doesn’t move, as if the connection is natural between them. Maybe he could read minds, like the heroes in the comics Koutarou read, the one with supernatural powers. A couple of times during the match, Koutarou’s head was filled with things that weren’t volleyball. Of him and Semi, doing other things… Still fighting, but a battle between the sheets and not with a net parting them. 

Those thoughts hadn’t exist the first time they met. But Koutarou’s mind was overrun by them during this year’s quarterfinals. 

“Listen, I know this is inappropriate. You probably hate my… well our guts and don’t want anything to do with me,” Semi says, his leg leaning more into Koutarou’s. Turning his head the slightest to the side, Koutarou watches where their legs meet. He wears long black kneepads, and they reach over his thighs and down his calves. His skin tone is slightly darker than Semi’s, but with the black kneepad, Semi’s skin looks even more like softly kissed snow. Snow that was as strong and fearsome as ice, that is. 

Koutarou bites his lips. Tears dried up when sweat hasn’t had the time yet to cool. A lust burns his guts, his loins. There’s too many reasons that he shouldn’t.

“I saw the way you look at me. I recognize… that kinda gaze. Sorry if I’m wrong, but I’m sure I’m not overstepping when I think that you,” Semi says, but doesn’t get to finish. He touches Koutarou’s towel, attempting to pull it off and say the rest to his face. But as soon as the veil falls, Koutarou rushes forward. An unknown liberty brings his right hand, his spike hand, to Semi’s hair. He just has to angle himself too, move forward, and kiss.

He swallows Semi’s assumptions and turns them to solid facts. Whatever Semi may think replaces itself by what he now knows, and he kisses Koutarou back. It’s a sweet kiss, that turns hot and bothersome when they entertain the idea of tongues. At once, Semi turns to Koutarou’s side, his arms beneath Koutarou’s ribcage. The sounds they make are noisy, but there’s no one at this corner of the hallway anyway. 

Koutarou pulls Semi’s hair, loving the sweetest sound Semi’s throat makes in response. He doesn’t want to think that losing ain’t half bad if you’re still winning another war. And so Koutarou chooses to simply not think, and just feel. Feel Semi’s body closing in on him. Feel Semi’s mouth melting against his. Feeling the sharp intake of air, the roaming hands, the need to have so much more than either of them could possibly give.

“My… my number. I wanted to give you my number,” Semi says in between breaks, his cheeks red. As red as Koutarou must be all over. Semi bows his head, and Koutarou inhales the scent of his hair as it comes forward to his nose. Laughing, Koutaro asks:

“Just your number?” Voice edgy from yelling and crying and breathless from kissing, Koutarou hardly recognizes the words leaving his mouth. He’s never been good at flirting, much less with cute and strong guys he’s been interested in. Yet being with Semi for these last couple of minutes makes everything seem so effortless and easy. After all, Semi, who now laughs, came to him on his own. Semi, whose laugh directs itself at Koutarou’s throat. 

“Well, that was my intention, for now.”

And that, Koutarou believes, must be good enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway I love shiratorizawa/fukuroudani ships. They're such raw and fun powerhouses.


End file.
